‘The Rock’ Turns 20 But Remains Lovably Juvenile

When I saw The Rock on its opening day, exactly 20 years ago, I was blown away. It had everything my suburban teenaged self could have wanted — car chases, explosions, Sean Connery dropping f-bombs — and I remained hopelessly in love with the film for years afterward, wearing out my VHS copy with repeated viewings at home or in dorm rooms, on TVs as small as nine inches. (You kids will never understand what we had to put up with!) Now it’s 2016; the movie landscape is different, and so am I. And I’ve become, frankly, a little skittish about revisiting my old favorites, knowing that over time, some of them have tumbled into the category of Just Doesn’t Hold Up. Revisiting The Rock this year, I wondered if I would finally be forced to put it out to pasture.

Much to my relief, though, even at its ripe old age, the movie still comes out swinging. Certainly the aspects of it that were indefensible in 1996 are even moreso now — the race- and gay-baiting, the dearth of female characters — but in other ways The Rock has aged rather favorably. It definitely has factors working against it, but for the most part it either overcomes those elements or turns them into assets.

Let’s start with story. The Rock‘s screenplay is an interesting mess, taking a great, straightforward premise (the only guy who ever broke out of Alcatraz now has to break back in to stop some terrorists) and piling on so many other concepts, characters, and scenes that our heroes don’t even leave for Alcatraz until the 60-minute mark. And yet, that padded-out hour contains some of my favorite moments. Like this!

Or this!

And, of course, this epic car chase that stops the story dead so Sean Connery can un-gentrify San Francisco in a Hummer.

This isn’t what you’d call good screenwriting, and The Rock would objectively be a better movie if you trimmed off about 45 minutes. Subjectively, though, how can I get mad about all this delicious nonsense? Batman vs. Superman is also way too long, but that’s because it’s trying to set the table for 57 other movies. The Rock has no designs whatsoever on franchise-building; it only wants to entertain you for as long as possible, and that delights me.

And yes, part of the reason why The Rock‘s script is such a mess is because roughly one zillion writers contributed to it… but did you know that two of those writers were Quentin Tarantino and Aaron Sorkin? It seems likely that Sorkin handled the loftier speeches while Tarantino punched up the quips, but I really, really, really want to believe that it was the creator of The West Wing who came up with “Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.”

Meanwhile, the cast is just as overstuffed as the story, but look who’s in this thing! The Rock‘s thespian bench is so deep that you could cast an Oscar-worthy film just from its uncredited cameos: Philip Baker Hall, Stuart Wilson, David Marshall Grant, Xander Berkeley. Moving on up the list, the late, great John Spencer gobbles just the right amount of briefing-room scenery as FBI Director Womack (and West Wing fans have this movie to thank for introducing him to Sorkin); Tony Todd burnishes his already-considerable “guy with whom you would do well not to fuck” credentials; and John C. McGinley shines in one of his last pre-Dr. Cox roles, capping off the era when he was simply scary instead of scary-funny.

There are so many other mid-cast greats I don’t have the space to mention (like Raymond Cruz, who was legally mandated to appear in every single ’90s action flick), and I haven’t even gotten to the marquee names! Even amid all this clutter, there’s still room for Ed Harris to deliver a bad-guy performance that is loud, blistering, and yet somehow nuanced (it certainly helps that he’s been assigned the most coherent parts of the script). Nicolas Cage is, well, just as Nicolas Cage-y as ever, but his frenetic energy helps to distract from his all-over-the-map characterization, and he works hard to sell every word of his often-undercooked dialogue.

But it was Sean Connery who put my ass in that theater seat in 1996, and 20 years later I’m more convinced than ever that his infinite charisma is what holds this whole machine together. Gruff yet gleeful, charming but not cloying, Connery’s performance is the kind that reaches through the screen to let you know that it’s okay to buy into all this ridiculousness. And while AARP-eligible action heroes are commonplace in 2016, it’s still a thrill to see a 65-year-old Connery (and his many stunt doubles) beat the crap out of heavies half his age.

Finally, Michael Bay and his well-documented filmmaking fetishes certainly leave their mark on The Rock (you have to look pretty hard to find a steam-free shot in this movie), but they don’t tank it; in fact, this might be as restrained as he’s ever been. The editing, even in the fastest-paced scenes, looks downright leisurely compared with most contemporary blockbusters; and Bay’s deep and abiding boner for the U.S. military is mitigated by the fact that the bad guys in The Rock are soldiers too. And say what you will about the guy, but he can really shoot the hell out of a falling quarter.

The Rock isn’t a great movie, but it’s great fun, and I’m glad I can I still watch it with a smile on my face. I’ll be curious to see what we both look like in another 20 years.